


If It Heals Something Inside

by faeleverte



Category: The Avengers (2012), The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Forgiveness, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, revenge?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:57:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faeleverte/pseuds/faeleverte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escape was hard-fought, but surviving on the other side of captivity was more costly still. Loki, badly damaged, lands on Midgard. And that's when his trouble starts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desert

**Author's Note:**

> Tags to be updated as author figures out where this could possibly be going. Read warnings on chapters. No, really. First Chapter is very short. I can't promise it will stay that way.

Loki Laufeyson stumbled when his bare feet made contact with the rough ground of Midgard, clutching at a bleeding wound in his side and forcing himself to stay upright through long practice in mastering his own body. He reached out for a glamour to wrap himself in, but the pain in his side, his face, his feet, his shoulders all kept dragging him into reality, and the tailored suit he was so practiced at drawing together refused to appear. Damn Thor and Odin and... Just damn them all. He coughed, spat blood, and forced his shoulders back. He was a Prince, a King by birth and right. He would rule, this world or another. There were many worlds that needed the firm grip of his mighty will.

Sucking in a deep breath, ignoring a sharp stab of pain from the wound in his side, Loki tilted his chin and found himself clothed in the sleek lines of his favorite Midgardian costume. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused and began walking across the desert, mentally reaching out for the signs of life that drew him like a flame. First, food and rest. Second, take over the Earth.

***

The sun rose slowly over the horizon to turn the endless scrubland into an oven, and Loki's glamour shivered like a mirage around him. The torn leathers and blood began to seep through, and sweat was rolling down his thin, ever-paler face. He was a god, born to rule. He would not be defeated by a battle with puny guards, Asgardians far beneath him, not worthy of licking his boots, let alone being placed above him, watching him. He would not fall to the ridiculous wastes of Midgard, the sun of this pathetic planet. And then his lips twitched into a wry smile: the loss of so much of his immortal blood and the pain in his royal flesh might have something else to say about his chances of survival. It must be bad when lying to himself was becoming so difficult. 

Loki let his magic unclench, trying to conserve what energy he could. Too hot, too hurt, too tired. One foot in front of the other. The mortals ahead would care for him, too stupid to know the danger of allowing a serpent into their midst. He would not have enough left to control them, but humans were so easy to manipulate. Left, right, left, drag the right, force the left. His pace slowed to a crawl, but he kept moving, never quite stumbling to a halt. Only a few more steps, surely. Any moment.

Time stopped moving with the sun pounding on his head. Every step now took minutes, hours, an eternity to the ageless. He chanted his titles in his head like a mantra to keep himself upright. Loki of Asgard would not lie down in the dust. The God of Mischief would not crumble. The Lie-Smith would not bow to the truth of heat and blood and pain. Loki Laufeyson would not succumb to this blistering desert. The Magician of Illusion would not be defeated by an inconvenient Reality. The Rightful Heir of Asgard and any other likely-seeming throne he came across would not die alone and unsung.

A sudden brush of welcome cold touched his raw, bleeding face, pulling him out of his reverie, oh so slowly. He raised his chin off of his chest, trying to blink away the shadows from the glare of the sun. For a moment, his heart climbed to his throat in panic. Blind! He was blind! And then relief made him sag and stumble to the ground. Not blind. Darkness. Blessed stars above his head, a cessation of heat. And, in front of him, a Midgardian abode with light in the windows and the smell of cooking meat licking around it in the softest evening breezes. Salvation. Again Loki's sense of humor fought it's way free of his pain. Who would have thought salvation could be found in the shape of a tacky motorhome?

Loki tried to gather himself for one last push. He reached out to that unknown everywhere, trying to clothe himself in something at least presentable, but, instead of his will collecting the power to himself, the power pulled his will away. He tried to lift his head, but darkness dragged him under, and it was such a blessed relief to finally let go and swirl into forgetfulness.

***


	2. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we meet the mortals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no need for warnings. I don't know how long that will continue. Chapters continue to be quite short.

"Did you hear something?" Klotho asked, peering out into the darkness from the door of the motorhome. She leaned further into the night, raising a hand to block some of the glare from the cluster of computer screens along the side wall. 

"Not a blessed thing," a gruff voice answered. "And can you quit walking right now? It messes with the equipment."

"Seriously, Paul," Klotho answered. "I'm certain I heard something thump."

"It was probably my stomach," Paul answered, frowning at a small grey box that was humming softly in his hands. "And this thing is not reading right. Just go sit somewhere."

Klotho gave him a disgusted look over her shoulder and dropped from the doorway to the ground without touching the wobbly metal steps. The door swung shut behind her on Paul's sudden swearing as the motorhome rocked back from the sudden removal of her weight. She closed her eyes to give them a moment to adjust to the darkness and then threw her head back to look up at the stars. As a geologist, all of her work had been digging ever further down. But, out here, with no lights to interfere with the view, she could not resist going into the dark to stare upward instead.

She kept her head up as she walked further from the faint light spilling from the windows, hands in her pockets. She relaxed, shaking the tension of closely-watched experiments out of her shoulders, reflected starlight showing bright teeth in her dark face as she smiled into the cosmos. For just one moment, Klotho wished she'd grown up just a bit further from the city, just a bit further from the light pollution of a major metropolitan area. If the stars had looked like this, she might have tried astrophysics or astronomy or something. Maybe she could...

And then her foot hit something spongy that rolled and dumped her to the ground. 

Paul heard the piercing scream and slammed open the door of the motorhome, brandishing a shotgun and staring around with wild eyes.

"Klotho!" he shouted. "Where... What...?"

"I'm here," she called, sounding like she was fighting to control her voice. "There's a - I think it's a body - over here. I stepped on it... them... I..."

Paul reached back in the door for a flashlight and dropped to the ground, ignoring the urge to turn back when one of the computers let out the grunt that was the error noise caused by motion. He picked his way across the rocks to where Klotho knelt. 

"I found a pulse," she said, shielding her eyes with one arm as she looked up at the light. Her other fingers were tucked under long, tangled dark hair against the hidden stretch of throat. "It's unsteady, but it's there. We have to get him inside."

"But what if he's dangerous," Paul whispered, taking in the torn state of the strange clothing and the blood and burns on the pale face and hands. 

"I doubt he's going to be too much trouble in his current condition," she replied, critically surveying visible injuries. "But we can't just leave him out here for the nighttime scavengers. Come on. Help me get him up."

"What if he's like some mob hit that was dumped in the desert, and we get caught with him here and they kill us both off and smash all of our equipment?" Paul said as they struggled to sling the limp form between them and stumble across the short distance to the open door.

"Then we will know that the rest of the universe has been watching too much CSI and not just you," she said, straining to be gentle while she tripped over uneven ground. Climbing up the flimsy steps made most of their computers scream, bleat, and grunt, but they both sighed resignedly and continued struggling down the narrow hall to the single bedroom.

"Who do you think he is?" he asked as they flopped the unconscious man onto the bed they took turns sleeping in. 

"I don't know," Klotho replied. "Kinda cute under all the blood and dirt, though, don't you think?"

"No," Paul replied. "I most definitely do not think. I think he looks like a huge problem. I think he looks like a mostly dead guy that appeared as if by magic in the middle of the desert, and I think we will both regret this."

"Get some water and a washcloth," she said, ignoring the complaints and warnings and sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. "And some of those plastic gloves from the mineral kit, while you're at it."

"Just because they follow you home does not mean you can keep them," Paul muttered under his breath as he started collecting supplies for his naive, trusting, idiotic research partner. He was still muttering to himself as Klotho drew on the gloves and began to carefully wash the filth from the still, raw face.


	3. Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what it says on the tin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still no warning apply, unless you need to be warned about naked Asgardians in showers. Don't worry: the water is cold.

Loki came back to his senses slowly, first aware of pain and next aware of comfort. There was bright light filtering in through the blanket-covered window nearby, and he was lying on a bed, head pillowed and his face clean; his body was still aching from the fight, but the bruises on his face and hands were already healing. His lips were damp, and he darted out a tongue and tasted water instead of dust and blood. He slowly shifted his arms and legs, one at a time, to make certain everything worked. 

“I am Loki of Asgard,” he said, trying for soft, but barely managing to whisper. So. Voice not functional yet. And then a presence in the room distracted him from his personal inventory.

“I think he’s awake,” said a male voice, receding as it spoke. “He’s moving a bit and trying to talk.”

Footsteps outside the room and a new presence nearby.

“Let me see,” a woman’s voice answered, and a face was leaning over him. 

The woman was all curves and softness, round dark eyes, pouting full lips, short-cropped black hair. In fact, she was almost Loki's exact opposite in appearance. There was a wrinkle of concern between her carelessly tweezed eyebrows, and her lips were pursed as she leaned over and rested her palm against his forehead. It was a surprisingly pleasant sensation, and he felt a stab of disappointment when the hand was removed from his face.

“I am Loki, a Prince of Asgard,” he tried again. “I have come to... I have come...”

And he suddenly could not think of one further thing to say. He wasn't sure what he had said was even intelligible He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He sighed and closed his eyes for a second. This was quickly becoming frustrating.

“Um, hi,” the woman said. “I’m Klotho Brandt, geologist. How are you feeling?”

Loki licked his lips and pressed down with his elbows, struggling to sit. 

“Water?” he asked as clearly and carefully as he could, which was still quite rough and difficult to understand around his thick tongue. 

“Of course,” she said. “Just one second.”

With pathetic whines more suited to a small dog than a god and king, Loki forced himself up the bed to prop his shoulders against the wall. He was sweating when he finally made it, certain he had reopened the gash in his side, but feeling strangely triumphant at getting up from the undignified position of flat on his back. 

“You shouldn’t be moving around so much,” the woman - Klotho - told him as she came back into the room. “You seem to be pretty banged up. If there are internal injuries...”

She sat back on the side of the bed, holding a jelly jar out to him. 

“Sip slowly,” she said. “Don’t want to make yourself sick.”

He reached for the water, but his hand was shaking so hard that she did not let go and helped him guide it to his lips. He took a long drink before letting her pull the glass away. 

“Thank you,” he said simply, and a rush of relief washed over him as he found his voice working again. It was still coarse and weak, but there was enough force behind it to make his clipped syllables understood. 

“Welcome,” she replied. “What were you doing out in the desert, anyway? And how did you get so, er, torn up?”

“Got lost,” he answered, trying for a disarming smile. He lifted a hand to feel the purpling bruise on his jaw. “And there was a family dispute that seems to have gotten out of hand.”

“Hmm,” Klotho answered, a neutral hum, nothing more. This one would be harder to crack. All the better. He did so love a challenge.

“There’s a shower,” she said, studying him through narrowed eyes, taking in his strange, torn clothing, the cuts that seemed to be healing as she watched. “And Paul has agreed to loan you some clothing.”

“To be clean would be bliss, dear lady,” Loki replied with a genuine smile. “But do you perhaps have bandages? My side...”

And he gestured at the tear in his coat that was gleaming around the edges with new blood. He could feel the cut beginning to knit, but it would still be some time before he would be healed enough to take away the pain. Klotho recoiled, a look of disgust or fear on her face, and Loki’s green eyes flickered blue for a moment. He required no pity from this insect. Gathering his formidable will, he locked his jaw and swung his legs to the floor, forcing her to jump out of his way. 

“I will accept your shower now,” he said, regal, proud, standing firmly on his own. Klotho’s eyes went wide for a moment before narrowing again. She seemed to be looking for something in his face, but she turned away sharply to lead him down the hall before he could tell if she had discovered it.

“It’s this way,” she said.

Loki puzzled out the workings of the faucets and soon found himself standing under a fall of hot water. He sniffed at the unguents in the bottles on the rack hanging from the faucet and selected several to clean himself, reading the directions on each twice before testing them on his body and hair. As soon as the filth was removed, he turned the knob labeled with red all the way to the right, letting the water flow cold. Blue streaks and raised lines danced over his skin where it ran down his face, chest, and legs. He closed his eyes to rest his forehead against the wall and, when he opened them again, he could feel the crimson fire in them. 

Oh, he would heal, and he would show them "monster." Surely it was a sign that he had awoken to a woman who bore the Greek name of a Norn.


	4. Demigod

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klotho accepts a risk, unsure if she's trying to save her work or her world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end is in sight! There will be a total of nine or ten chapters. Hoping to continue with one a day.
> 
> Still no major warnings apply. I'm beginning to think none ever will. The Teen and Up rating will continue, based on mild language and dealing with the aftermath of emotional trauma on the part of all parties.

Klotho waited until the water had started behind the closed bathroom door before she let her shoulders sag. She stomped past the kitchenette, grabbing the back of Paul's collar where he was standing at the stove on her way by and dragged him to the door. 

"We need to talk, outside, right now," she hissed at him before jumping out into the scorching sunlight. 

Paul followed her across the sunbaked dirt to the far side of the clearing, near the place where they had found the half-dead body the night before. 

"I know who he is," Klotho said. "We're in trouble."

"What? Who is he?"

"It's Loki, who led that alien attack on Manhattan last year," Klotho replied, her eyes dark and angry. "It took awhile for me to figure out where I'd seen him, and then he was trying to tell me his name, but I couldn't understand him. It took a while to come together."

"Holy shit," Paul said, dropping to a squat. He rested his elbows on his knees and put both hands over his face. "We are in a lot of trouble, Kloth."

"What do we do?" Klotho asked.

Paul looked up at her, twining his fingers together and resting his chin on them.

"I have an uncle who might be able to help," he said. "But I'll have to go back up the highway to where I can get a signal to call him. He works for Homeland Security, and I think he was involved in the cleanup and all in New York. But I'll have to go back up the highway to where I can get a signal to call him. That'd leave you here alone with that alien guy. If he knows you're onto him..."

"Do it," she said. "Go and call him. Just hurry."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going back in there to nurse a freak back to health and lie through my teeth."

"Klotho..." Paul said, sounding helpless. His face was pale under the deep tan six weeks in the desert had given his usually pale face.

"I know, Paul," she answered. "Just, don't say anything, okay? I can do this, because I don't have a choice."

"We could both take the Jeep and just run," he said, standing up and putting a hand on her shoulder. 

"No. From what I understand from the papers, tabloids, and interviews with the Avengers that were everywhere, he really is basically a god," Klotho said. She brushed a streak of sweat off of her face. "He could probably follow us. Or run off and cause more trouble. If I'm here, he'll stay here. If he stays here, your uncle and his friends or whatever can find him. Besides, I will not leave our data behind. No data, no paper. No paper, no jobs for either of us next fall. Just... hurry back."

Klotho climbed back into the motorhome as the Jeep swung out across the desert. The water was still running, so she picked up the stack of clothing Paul had left on the table and pulled the first aid kit off the wall. She paused to lean over a computer and tapped a few minor recalculations into the program that was running. Hmm. Interesting. Those minerals should not be in that sample, but, well, that was the point of the survey. The newest tech from SI made this whole process way too computer-focused and way too easy. 

She shook her head as if to brush away thoughts of rock and dirt and walked on to the bathroom door.

"Hey," she said, knocking. "Are you okay in there?"

The water stopped and there was some muffled rattling from the shower door and the towel bar.

"Much better now, thank you," came the reply.

"I have some clothing for you," she said. "It may not fit very well, but it's clean. And I have some bandages."

The door opened, and Klotho was confronted with an astonishing amount of damp, pale skin. She ran her gaze over the sunburn on his nose, the scrapes on his neck, one inky bruise on his shoulder, a gash across his bicep, the deep wound in his side (still oozing), and nearly forgot to stop her eyes before they dropped too low. Forcing them back to his face, she swallowed hard and held out the clothing. 

"If you'll put the pants on," she said, watching his mouth to avoid looking him in the eye, "I'll help you with your ribs."

He pursed his lips and reached out to lift the pants from the top. Sweatpants. This should be interesting.

He drew them over his legs, and Klotho carefully pretended to look anywhere except at him. Someone this frightening, with such a history of violence, should not have a backside that looked like that. That was just unfair.

The pants were a touch too wide, hanging loosely on the jut of his hipbones, and several inches too short, showing off rather boney ankles. Klotho turned her back on him to open the first aid kit and pull on another pair of gloves. She took a deep breath and turned to face him again. Trying to keep her voice neutral, she instructed him to raise his arm so that she could dot at the blood on his side with an alcohol wipe - Would he even be susceptible to infection? - and then pressed a large gauze pad across the injury. She carefully taped the edges down, and then wrapped the whole thing to his body with a long roll of gauze that she tied off neatly.

"So, uh," she began hesitantly as she gathered up the wipes and packaging to throw them in the trash, "what's your name?"

"I am..." he paused, studying her face. "I am Luke Atherton."

Okay, a lie. She could deal with a lie. Just pretend it was the truth, and keep going. Do not respond. No change in face, eyes or breathing. She smiled and nodded once.

"Pleased to meet you, Luke. Would you like something to eat?" she asked as she helped him lift the baggy t-shirt over his head, since he seemed to be having trouble working one arm. 

"I'm famished," he answered, and he rested his fingers on her wrist, cool and pale against the dark coffee of her warm skin. "Thank you for finding me and bringing me in, Klotho Brandt. I would not have lasted the day without your care."

Klotho made a strangled sound that she hoped was "You're welcome," and walked to the kitchen to rummage for leftovers from last night's supper.


	5. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was nice, that, to have someone near him. For months, he'd been alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for sexual suggestiveness, memories of torment, pain and captivity. Also a warning because the characters are not quite who I thought they were when I started writing, so things keep getting out of hand.

Loki glanced at the computers scattered around the living areas of the motorhome, wanting to study them closer, but needing to not remain standing any longer. He picked his way around the makeshift desks to a sagging couch along one wall. He sank down, groaning softly as some dozen or so of his injuries made themselves known. These garments were ridiculous, but surprisingly comfortable. He hoped he would be able to salvage his armor that was lying in a bloody heap in the bathing room. Magic place, that. Shower. That was something he would have to insist on adding to the palace when he took over Asgard. 

He curled his bare feet underneath him, noticing that the sores from yesterday's walk had already healed, and watched Klotho through narrowed eyes. She was gathering bread and meat, fruits, and curdled milk onto a large plate. He had seen something in her face when he gave her his created name. Suspicion, maybe. Or perhaps fear. But he had seen attraction, too, in the way her eyes had lingered on his body. Well, it was a very good body, minus a few injuries. He watched her, eyes unfocused as they lingered on the curve of her waist, the softness of the back of her neck, the delicacy of the shell of her ear. Perhaps this attractive human could offer him something more than fear or mindless obedience. Such simple emotions could surely be manipulated into... into... into whatever it was that he wanted them to be.

Klotho watched the plate and glass she was balancing as she picked her way through electronics. Loki watched the sway of her hips, the pout of concentration on her lips. Yes, he was beginning to think he was hungry for something other than food. It had been a long time since he'd lain with anyone, and, even if his tastes were more refined, more discerning than those of his brother, it did not mean his appetites were any weaker. Actually, given that his brother preferred to indulge in the physical after battle and Loki would rather skip the battle and go straight to the sex, it was likely that he was more interested than Thor in such things.

"Here," she said, handing him the food and setting the glass on a table by his elbow. "It's pretty good. Roast and veg, store-bought bread, and yogurt. Paul's a good cook. I, on the other hand, could burn water."

Now that should not have been as appealing an image as it was. Boiling water, icy flesh. No. Stop. Food. She was feeding him, not seducing him. 

"So where is this Paul?" Loki asked around a bite of roast. It was very good. Loki wondered if Paul was as attractive as Klotho, shook off the thought and took another bite.

"He is out checking some of our equipment in the desert," she answered. "He should be back before too long, though."

Loki started on the bread. It was... interesting. Not what he was used to, for certain. There was no texture, and it left a strange aftertaste in his mouth. He decided not to complain. Food was food, at this point, after weeks on starvation rations and with so much damage to heal on and in his body. 

Klotho sat at the other end of the couch and folded her hands together. It was nice, that, to have someone near him. For months, he'd been alone. Guards outside a cell created of nothing, of void, of emptiness. No one to speak with, not counting his brother, er, the usurper, who had come in from time to time to plead for a reconciliation. As if there could be any forgiveness for having his power stolen, his destiny removed, his very life stripped away as he was thrown to the Void, to the Chitauri. That thought caught his throat, making it impossible to swallow. The Chitauri and the way they killed him, a million different deaths, each more painful than the last, until they were convinced of his loyalty, his planning, his alliance. He still wondered if it had really happened, or if each pain, each torment, each time he had watching himself die had happened only in his head, behind his eyelids while he slept.

"Luke!" Klotho said, reaching over to catch the plate before it dropped to the floor and inadvertently grabbing his hand as well. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Loki was disoriented. Luke. The name he had given her. "Yes... I... I still seem to be suffering some effects from the desert, or..."

"Finish eating," she told him, "and then more sleep."

"Yes," he answered, his eyes still dark and haunted. "I think that would be best."

Klotho slowly withdrew her hand from his, and Loki could not tell if it was fear for the plate or compassion for his own weakness that made her fingers trace so slowly over his knuckles. He shivered and took another bite.


	6. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one thing she had not expected to find was weakness. He seemed so fragile. His eyes were full of old wounds...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an astonishing amount of showering in this. Really. A lot. 
> 
> No warnings apply for this chapter, unless you have a phobia about sleeping demigods. If you do, skip this one.
> 
> If you find typos or inconsistencies, please point them out. Author is tired and has been running around all day, writing in snippets.

Klotho watched from the doorway as Loki rolled on his side, pulling the blanket more tightly around his neck and sinking into the pillow, before she closed the door and turned away. The one thing she had not expected to find in this enemy was weakness. He seemed so fragile, somehow, unrelated to his injuries. His eyes were full of old wounds, and she found herself fighting against pity. That was HER city he smashed with his creepy lizard people and giant, flying, space whales. Asshole.

But he was kinda cute with his hair all wadded up on the pillow...

"Klotho?" Paul's voice called from outside. 

She let out a sigh of relief and closed the bedroom door before going outside into the already blazing late-morning sunlight.

"Hey," Paul said as he climbed down from the Jeep, looking around suspiciously. 

"Hey, yourself," she answered. And then in answer to Paul's questioning look, "He's back in bed. Sleeping."

"Are you okay?" 

"Fine, Paul," she said. "Got him out of the shower, got him dressed, and that was interesting, let me tell you. Got him fed. And now he's down for a nap."

"What, no diaper changes?" Paul quipped.

"Don't do that," she answered sharply. She felt too raw for jokes right now - not enough rest in dozing on the couch between checks on Loki through the night, not enough food with her appetite suppressed by fear. 

"Klotho," Paul said, "What is it?"

"He's not quite what I expected," she replied. 

"He's not... You're not... What?" He put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I know what he did. I think I can guess what he's capable of," she answered. "But I get the feeling that there's more to the story. I think I'm feeling sorry for him."

"Klotho, don't," Paul said. "I got through to my uncle, and he said he'll alert the people who need to know. Someone should be here within twenty-four hours to, er, help."

"Good," she said. "The sooner he's back in custody, the better for him."

"For him?" Paul asked, sounding surprised.

"He is as much a danger to himself as he is to the rest of us, and, as long as he is a danger to himself, he's going to stay a danger to us. And there was a lot of him and danger in that sentence. Did that make sense?"

"Nothing about this makes sense," Paul replied. He sighed and turned to the motorhome. "Right now, I just want to get out of the sun, have some water, and maybe a shower."

Klotho cracked open the bedroom door while Paul was in the shower. Loki was lying on the bed, tipped towards his right side, angling to keep his damaged left ribs away from pressure. His left hand was flung behind him on the bed, and his right was curled beneath his chin. Very dark eyelashes fanned across his cheeks, and she could tell that his injuries were healing as he slept. He shifted, throwing his right hand out and whining in the back of his throat.

"Father," he murmured, still sleeping. "Thor. Please."

Klotho frowned and gently clicked the door shut. She tried to push it all out of her mind and went to nap on the couch. 

When she woke, feeling only slightly less sandy-eyed, Paul was sitting with her feet in his lap and his laptop propped on the arm of the couch. He was scrolling through a list of data, the font too small for Klotho to see what he was checking on. 

"Little Godling sleeping peacefully," Paul said without looking away fromt the screen, feeling her shift as she stretched. "Well, mostly. There was a bit of screaming, but he settled down before I got back there."

Klotho swung her legs around to sit up and scrubbed at her eyes with the back of her hands. She ran her fingers over her short curls, feeling lumps and wayward strands from sleep and lack of grooming. 

"I'm gonna grab a shower," she said. "What time is it?"

"'Bout four," Paul answered. "There're only two towels left. We're going to have to head into town for the laundromat soon."

Klotho nodded and stumbled her way to the bathroom, stopping only once to watch the minute trembles and jumps being fed into a computer from the seismograph in the desert. She pecked at the screen to see the history, shook her head at her own inability to resist her work, and dragged herself off to get clean.

In the bedroom, as she went to dig clean jeans and t-shirt out of a duffel in the corner, Loki muttered in his sleep again and threw an arm over his face. He looked ridiculous, lying there tangled in the sheets and his baggy sweatpants, giant shirt bunched up around his ribs. But so delicate, almost innocent. Guy must have had a hell of a life. All endless millennia of it. Asshole.

The shower refreshed her, and, when she came out, Paul was broiling burgers in the tiny oven. 

"You gonna wake Sleeping Ugly?" he asked as she leaned around him to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. 

"Probably," she replied. "Do you think you can fake it?"

"Do I have a choice?" Paul answered.

"Not a bit of it," she said. "Just let me know when we're ready to eat."

"Five minutes," Paul said. "If you want to go get him..."

Klotho took a long pull at her water, recapped the bottle to set it on the counter, and straightened her shoulders. She walked back down the short hall and opened the door carefully. Loki was no longer asleep. Instead, he was sitting in the center of the bed looking very disoriented. 

"Hey, Luke," she said, leaning against the door jamb. "Supper is about ready, if you're hungry."

He looked up at her with an unreadable expression, then smiled slightly and nodded.

"Hungry, yes," he said softly. "And food would be good."

"Then come on out, and you can meet Paul, too," she said, returning his smile. "He's making cheeseburgers, and they are always amazing."

Loki kept his eyes fixed on hers as he climbed carefully off the bed, moving more easily than he had before sleeping. 

"Healing?" she asked. 

"Yes," he replied, his voice a pleased purr. "I am beginning to feel quite a lot better. About everything."

Klotho turned her back quickly to lead him down the hall, fear prickling along her spine, but she tried to keep her voice casual as she answered over her shoulder. 

"Glad to hear it."


	7. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do you love her, if she hates you?" Loki looked truly bewildered, eyes wide with something that might be hope glowing in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Just Loki's issues. There are a lot of them. If you're reading this sort of fic, you probably already know that.

After they had eaten, Klotho announced she was going for a short walk. Loki watched her leave, choking down an odd feeling of abandonment. He knew she had opened the bedroom door a dozen times while he slept. He could feel her eyes on him, smell her every time she had put her head in the room, even as he slept. He was sorry she had not touched his face again, with her smooth fingers and the steady pressure of her palm. He rubbed the knuckles of his left hand against his lips still feeling the impression of her fingers against his skin from that moment she had lingered after rescuing his lunch.

"We're about to get the next data set in," Paul said from the kitchen. He was elbow-deep in dish suds, cleaning up from the meal. "You should probably go out with Kloth. Can't have footsteps too close to the equipment. Our connection is a little iffy."

Loki tried to look casual as he rose from the end of the couch and followed Klotho, but he was aware that he was too eager. To anxious to be near her. A little too needy, wanting her voice and her eyes, and one more touch of her hand. He would make her a queen, if she would agree to worship him. 

"Klotho?" he called into the dark. 

"Over here, Luke," she answered from somewhere just out of reach of the lights that shone through the windows. He saw a shadow of her raise a hand and began walking towards her, his bare feet feeling the sun's heat still held in the stones and dirt. She was sitting on a wide, flat rock, and she patted the surface near her hip. "Room for two."

He perched himself on the edge of the stone, maintaining distance, keeping his back very stiff. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"Watching the stars and trying to keep from pacing indoors while we see if the sat-link is working or not tonight," she said. "I can't get enough of the stars like this. Diamonds on velvet."

Loki tipped his chin back, stretched his vision through the endless depths above them and nearly retched. Void. So much nothing. Darkness and loneliness and emptiness and anger and so much pain...

"Hey," Klotho's voice brought him back before he began howling like a madman, for which he was so grateful. "What's wrong?"

"I just..." Loki stopped, unable to figure out how to finish the sentence without giving himself away. "My brother is perfect," he said finally. "Everyone seems to think so. I used to think so. My brother still thinks so. Parents, too. To all of them, I am nothing."

"My middle sister would likely say the same thing about our family," Klotho said, sighing. 

"Please tell me her name is Lachesis," Loki said with a flash of humor on his starlit face.

"It is," Klotho said. "And, before you ask, the oldest is, indeed, Atropos. Would it make more sense if I told you my mother's name is Themis? My grandfather loved to read anything that held still long enough, but Greek myths were always his favorite."

"I think it makes perfect sense without, but it's even more delicious with," Loki replied. He leaned back to rest on his elbows. "So tell me about Lachesis. Why does she think you see her as nothing? I hear affection in your voice when you speak of her."

"She should hear it when I speak *to* her," Klotho said. "But, really, she is busy trying to prove something we all know: that she is special. And she really is. But Posy is an attorney, with a big, important job at a big, important law firm. And here I am, starting to make a name for myself in rocks. And there's Sis, who is good at her job, but she thinks her job isn't important enough for us to care. She's always hated being the middle child. I think she hated me for becoming the new baby from the day I arrived."

"Why do you love her, if she hates you?" Loki looked truly bewildered, eyes wide with something that might be hope glowing in them.

"Because she only thinks she hates me," Klotho replied, turning her whole body towards Loki and folding her legs in front of her. "She's my sister, see. She will always be my sister. Sis, Posy, and I are all part of each other. We could no sooner walk away for good than we could cut off our own heads. Which I suppose is possible, but likely to be messy. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that last part out loud."

Loki smiled and reached out to touch Klotho's cheek with one long finger for just one second.

"I think there is wisdom in your words," he said. There was one crystal tear running down his cheek, but Klotho forced herself to keep her hands in her lap instead of giving in to the temptation to reach out and brush it away. "I will think on them, and, maybe, someday I can understand my own brother."

"Unlikely," Klotho said. "Just because I love them does not mean I ever understand my sisters. If I could understand them, they'd be friends, not siblings."

Loki threw back his head and laughed into the night sky.

"Kloth?" Paul called from the doorway. "Are you okay? Do you have Loki with you?"

And Loki's laughter died instantly on his lips. They knew him. They knew his name, who he was, and they had lied to him. He pulled all the strength he could find from the Darkness around them and wrapped himself in his battle armor, horned helm on his proudly-raised head, and soft black boots covering his feet. He reached out and a staff, golden with carved serpents racing around the heavy head, appeared in his hand.

"You should not toy with the God of Mischief," Loki Laufeyson said, his voice mild and pleasant and more terrifying than any sound Klotho or Paul had ever heard before. "And never, ever lie to the Lord of Lies, the Magician of Asgard, the Inventor of all Illusion." 

He grabbed Klotho by the arm and stood, dragging her to her feet, pulling her towards the motorhome and Paul, who stood in the doorway looking horrified and lost.


	8. Bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will have you either way. You will be mine by right and by conquest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting to deserve its rating. Mentions of death, destruction, and slavery.

Klotho didn't twist against the fingers digging into her upper arm. Instead, she just tried to keep moving as quickly as she could, hoping to avoid making the bruises - and his anger - worse. Loki flung her to the ground by the steps, and Paul jumped down beside her to wrap an arm protectively around her shoulders. She shook him off and tensed, looking for an opportunity to spring or run away. 

"You thought you could fool me, mortals?" Loki said, still pleasant and mild. "You wanted to, what? Defeat me? Or were you just trying to protect your own miserable necks?"

Paul sucked in a breath to retort, but Klotho elbowed him firmly in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him. 

"No, Loki," she said, placatingly holding a hand out towards him. "If you recall, we were trying to keep you alive."

"And so you have," Loki answered, his voice a purr, the contented hum of a tiger with its paws around its prey. "I am alive, and I am healing. All thanks to you. And you will have a reward, Klotho. You will sit at my feet, my slave and my queen. My face will hold your gaze. My voice will fill your ears. My will shall fill your heart, like love. Your adoration will fuel my rage, and your fear will be a balm to me as you watch me destroy your world in revenge for all that my brother stole, all that you pretended to offer." 

Loki stretched his arms out, flinging his head to the sky.

"I begin to see what my brother meant about not being above you creatures," he said expansively. "I can't be so far above you, when you are so like me. You bend truth to your own uses. You twist and abuse and lie for gain, and you are always working only for yourselves. For this, little creatures, I owe you much thanks. You will have many rewards, yes. You will, both of you, live to see what becomes of the rest of your worthless race. When you are the last humans left, I will have my fun with him, finding the perfect torment, the perfect terror to end his life. And after I have finished with him, you Klotho, will stay with me. You will remember for every second that your traitorous beauty, your self-serving kindness, your false concern bought you this boon. And you will weep for it."

She fought to keep tears out of her eyes, frightened, but hearing something else, another meaning beneath the angry words and the cold tone. She thought she was beginning to understand, and a plan began to coalesce. She would...

But Paul interrupted, opening his mouth and unleashing his temper and his tongue.

"You've already played this game and lost, Loki," he said from where he knelt on the ground. "The Avengers have stopped you once, and they will very easily do it again. So run along and find a different world to try to intimidate with your impotent rantings, godling."

Klotho groaned inwardly and pushed herself to her feet just as Loki began a swing with his staff. She leaned to place herself between the blow and Paul’s head and held her breath. She was forever convinced that only Loki's godlike reflexes saved her, as the staff turned to smoke and ghosted away just before crushing her skull.

"Stop," she said. "Please, Loki. Stop."

"Why are you doing this?" Loki asked, stepping closer and drawing himself up to tower further over her. "Is this the one you love? The one who keeps your heart from me? You would bargain for someone so base as him?"

"No," Klotho replied. She forced herself to stand her ground, trying to control every instinct that demanded she run from danger. "I would bargain for my entire world or not at all. Spare my planet and everyone on it, leave this place, and I’ll go with you."

She ignored Paul's strangled gasp from behind her and stepped closer to Loki's chest, tilting her chin higher to keep her eyes fixed on his. She forced herself to reach out, pressing her hand gently to his side, resting her fingers on the bandage she had put over his bleeding ribs. She felt him catch his breath, and he took a small step away, breaking their contact.

"I will have you either way," Loki said with only a touch less certainty in his voice. "You will be mine by right and by conquest."

"Leave my world in peace," she said, "and I will be yours by my own choice."

"Will you love me then?" he asked. Klotho watched his eyes, trying to read the lights and shadows that flickered there. "Will you give me your heart fully?"

"No, Loki," she answered, and she felt her shoulders slump with exhaustion. It was too hard to keep faking, to keep lying. "I can't love you. But if owning me, if my pity and my care, if even taking my life will heal the hurt inside you, then I am yours, and glad to be."

"I don't understand," he said in a voice that was losing it's commanding tones, softening and sounding lost. "You say you don't love me, but yet you want to heal me? I'm not so broken that I need pity from the likes of you. And why would you not love me, worship me?"

"You hurt me, Loki," she told him. "A lot. I'm from New York. And you, er, broke it. You made my world feel very unsafe, very scary. But I do pity you; you're an awful lot like Lachesis. She won't let anyone close enough to help her, either."

"And how would you help me?" Loki asked, an edge of anger spilling back into his voice. 

"I don't know," she said. "What do you need? Do you want to be adored? I can work on that. You are pretty cute. That'd be a place to start. Do you want to be feared? I'm doing very well on that front right now."

"Cute?" Loki asked, his eyes bewildered. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s a compliment,” Klotho said and smiled at him. For all the hatred she felt towards him, she found she did not dislike this side of him. He was so easy to confuse, and that was oddly fun. It was a strange emotional combination that she figured she would have plenty of time to puzzle out later.

Paul got to his feet behind her, reaching for her shoulder. “Kloth, you can’t do this.” 

“It’s okay,” she said, leaning away from his touch without looking away from Loki’s face. “If it saves the world, it’ll be worth it.”

"I will agree to your bargain," Loki said. "You and everything you are in exchange for this planet."

Klotho reached out her hand to seal the agreement, afraid but determined. She saw Loki lift his hand towards hers, but they did not meet.

Lights flashed up from seemingly everywhere at once, blinding her. Dirt billowed around them as the whirring of helicopter blades split the silence of the desert, and there was a whine of jets sweeping across the sky. Paul grabbed Klotho’s shoulders, dragging her against the side of the motorhome. Loki turned to meet the threat, not even sheltering his eyes as he gazed into the chaos.

"Loki of Asgard," called a calm voice, electronically amplified. "Step away from the geologists and keep your hands where we can see them. We have found ways to override the Chitauri weapons, and we have several trained on you at this moment. Your brother will be here momentarily, and, if you go with him willingly, we will not have to use these on you.”


	9. Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His reflexes were too slow from his injuries, from showboating, from too little food, from some instinct telling him that he did not really wish to cause harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we have mild (very mild) violence, two guest appearances, and gratuitous tears. I feel a little guilty about the tears.

Loki drew his staff back to him from the shadows, and waited. He had no intention of loitering until his brother arrived, but he had to know exactly what and how many he was facing before making his move. The dust settled imperceptibly. 

"Loki," the voice called again. "Put down your staff."

"I think not," he answered, amplifying his own voice to boom across the desert with the richness of velvet. He stepped back until he was between the lights and the place where Klotho and Paul cowered against the side of the motorhome. "If you fire those weapons, you will almost certainly kill these poor creatures. And I doubt you would be willing to harm any more," he paused, tasting several words in his mind before settling on one, "innocents."

An apparently unarmed man calmly strolled forward from the flying dirt and shadows behind the lights. He was in a black suit, tie carefully knotted, and not a hair out of place. Loki studied him with narrowed eyes. Couldn't be. Then again, when had death ever stopped anyone he had known. He allowed his armor to shimmer, replacing it with his own best suit. 

"So, back on our feet, are we?" Loki asked, sliding his now empty hands into his pockets. 

"Yes," the man replied, mirroring Loki's gesture, putting his own hands in the pockets of his slacks, "No thanks to you."

Loki noticed the imperceptible twitch of a left shoulder and smiled thinly. He was certain the man was not as unarmed as he appeared, and he wondered how many weapons were trained on him from the shadows.

"I would have thought you'd thank me for the vacation, Agent" he said pleasantly. "Barton once told me that S.H.I.E.L.D. is rather remiss in allowing its employees to take their accrued time off."

"True," the man replied. "He has often complained about that to any fool who will listen."

"And you think I'm a fool?" Loki asked, raising his eyebrows in feigned surprise.

"Did you listen?"

Loki laughed. This was starting to be fun. The man smiled, an enigmatic curl of lip that could be pleasure or anger or nothing at all.

"You came back, Loki," he said, dropping the smile. "That was not the move of a forward thinker. What, did you think we wouldn't notice? Did you think we hadn't planned for that possibility?"

The agent was standing rather close now, only a few feet separating him from the demigod. Loki schooled himself to stay very still and maintain a neutral expression.

"Now, Loki, let those people go, and maybe we can convince Thor to go easy on you," the agent said. 

"No, Agent," Loki replied. "I already have an agreement with the woman. I will go, but it will be in my own way, and she is going with me."

"Not letting that happen," the agent answered. He took his hands, still empty from his pockets, holding them up with his palms out.

"Klotho," Paul said, voice barely above a whisper that was nearly swallowed in the sound of men and vehicles of destruction around them. "Run."

Loki tried to reach out as the humans behind him darted away, but the agent launched at Loki's chest. They hit the ground, and Loki kicked hard to fling the suited body away from him. As the agent rolled across the ground, Loki smoothly regained his feet and made a grab for Klotho's arm, but his fingertips barely brushed her sleeve as she slid out of reach. His reflexes were too slow from his injuries, from showboating with the armor and the suit, from too long with too little food, from some instinct telling him that he did not really wish to cause this woman any more harm. All around him, weapons hummed into life, covering him in electric blue light. He had a momentary thought that this was what it felt like to face a death that would not end, and then he was curled in a ball in the dirt, wearing only the borrowed shirt and pants.

"I'm sorry, Klotho," he said into his knees, not realizing his voice was still magically carrying. "If this is how you felt, then I am so, so sorry." He wrapped his arms over his head and sobbed.

"Stop." Loki heard her voice. "Everyone stop."

He did not hear her boots crunching over the dry ground, but she suddenly was crouching beside him with one hand resting on his back. She made a shushing sound, patting him awkwardly. He wrapped his arms around her ankle, holding on, quite literally, for dear life. 

The emotions he was feeling were completely unknown to him. Was this guilt? He understood hate and fear and self-loathing, but this anger at himself for harming someone was new. And most unwelcome. Most undignified. Maybe it was love. How... inconvenient. Ridiculous sentiment. But rather warm, welcome, comforting. 

"Ma'am," said the agent. "If you'll please step away, we'll deal with this now."

"No," she said. "I think we should wait right here for Thor. He needs his brother right now. If he tries to cause problems, I give you permission to shoot through me, however. If that makes it any better."

Loki forced himself to choke down his sobs and release Klotho's foot. He pushed himself up to sitting, so that his head was level with hers. He could feel the trails left by his tears, but he did not reach up to wipe them away. Klotho swiped at his cheek with her fingers, and he flinched. Her kindness burned him, and his face felt raw where she touched. 

"Hey," she said, gently, as if talking to a particularly frightened small child. She dropped to her knees and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "Hey there, now. I'm right here. I won't let them kill you, okay."

"But... why?" he asked, his voice cracking. 

"I'm just really tired of death," she said, letting her shoulders sag. "I don't want to watch anyone else die. Ever. Besides, you said you were sorry, and I wanted to see if you meant it. If you do, you're going to have to prove it."

"And how do I do that?" he asked, thinking of all the harm he had done to her, to her planet. He flinched. That was a large bill.

"By going with your brother," she told him. "By staying in jail for the length of your sentence. And then, by trying to fix things with him."

There was a sizzle of lightning through the formerly clear sky, followed by a mighty rumble of thunder. 

"I think that's your ride," she said, giving him a half-smile. 

He rose and gently pulled on Klotho's arm to raise her to her feet. Even if he had managed to destroy the last scrap of his own dignity, he would meet his jailor - his brother - on his feet instead of huddled on the ground like a legless worm. He took a deep breath, bracing himself as the whirling wind swept closer, and then his golden brother dropped out of the sky to land with an earth-shaking thump in the center of the lit circle.


	10. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I do this thing, will you then love me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just try not to step in the sap. Sorry.

Klotho tried not to mind that Loki kept holding onto her arm as they both turned toward the large (extremely large!) blond man walking toward them. She could feel him trembling, his fingers convulsively clutching at her elbow. She reached back to pat his hand and found Thor watching her with narrowed eyes. Loki tightened his grip and shuffled closer, nearly leaning into her.

“Brother!” Thor boomed after half a dozen steps brought him within a few feet. “What have you done? Why have you come here? Did you think I would not follow?”

“Thor, I,” Loki began. He hesitated and looked at Klotho. She nodded at him. Get on with it. “I do not know what I was doing,” he finished, bowing his head. "I had thoughts of revenge when I arrived, but..."

“Release this woman,” Thor commanded. “Come back with me.”

“She is not my prisoner,” Loki said, looking at is brother with a flash of temper. “She is...” He stopped.

“I’m his captor,” Klotho finished for him. “Maybe his friend. Sort of. But not exactly. Klotho Brandt.” She held her hand out, marveling at her own daring. Then again, after the last twenty-four hours, what could possibly surprise her now. 

“I have wronged her and her people, and I wish to make amends. She has agreed to accept my apology,” Loki told his brother. “Provided I go back with you and serve my sentence. When that is done, I am to join you in, um, doing good.”

“With what magics have you changed my brother’s heart?” Thor asked, his voice full of wonder. And then he proved wrong Klotho’s theory about being surprised as he astonished her by dropping to one knee in front of her and taking her hand in both of his. “However you have done this thing, you have my gratitude and friendship, nay, my adoration! My fondest wish has always been that something could bring Loki back to me as my brother and closest companion.” 

“I, er,” Klotho blinked and swallowed to give herself time to think of a suitable reply. “I don’t know how much he means it. But I think that he's been hurt, too. More than he's dared to tell you. Do try to get the whole story out of him.”

“You know that he lies. Do you trust him in this?” Thor asked, his open face bright with hope. “Do you really believe he has changed?

“Only time will show that,” Klotho answered as gently as she could, aware that Loki was listening closely. She heard him sigh, and he released her arm. Thor nodded thoughtfully.

“Brother,” Thor said, looking past her shoulder. He let Klotho take her hand back as he rose, looking bewildered. “Why are you wearing such strange garb?”

She heard Loki groan, and looked back to find him with his fingers pressed to his eyes. Fighting down a desperate urge to giggle, she mentally compared Loki in his magical armor to "Luke" in the now-dusty sweatpants that were barely staying up, and the t-shirt that hung like an elephant skin on a giraffe. Yes, strange was one word for it. There were others that might fit better. Absurd. Ridiculous. Fan-freakin'-tastically horrible.

“Thor,” Loki said with exaggerated calm, “please give me one moment to say my goodbyes, and I will explain everything later.”

Thor nodded and stepped back to speak with the S.H.I.E.L.D agent that had tried to help Klotho and Paul escape and who was now attempting to brush dirt off of his jacket from his brief scuffle with Loki. 

Loki took Klotho’s hand and pressed it between his own, much as his brother had done. He studied Klotho's face, hunting for something in her eyes.

“If I do this thing,” he asked, his voice velvet and smoke, “will you then love me?”

“No,” she answered, simply and a little sadly. “You came to my planet, my home city, and blew things up. People died, Loki. That’s not the kind of thing we humans get over very easily. And then all of this." She vaguely waved a hand to indicate the desert and the threats and the armed men and women they still could not see beyond the floodlights. "I don’t even know how to process this past day. But, if you do this, you will gain my respect.”

She rested her free hand on his wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I really am. You are... something else.”

“Is that a good something else or bad?” Loki asked softly with a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow.

“I hope it’s good, but that’s up to you,” she said. Loki nodded and let go of her hand.

“I think I will miss you, Klotho Brandt,” Loki said softly. He touched her cheek gently and turned away. “You have taught me much about families, and about myself. My brother will visit you, if my pleading can move him, and if you will allow it. He will tell you how I perform my penance. And, if you wish, how it fares with me. In return, I beg this of you: please tell me when you have forgiven me. If... Please send me word. Someday. In this, you do control my fate.”

“So you can break out of jail again?” Klotho asked. “Or so you can try to come back here and take advantage of my good nature.”

Loki spun on her, an angry blue flash in his pale green eyes. 

“I’m kidding,” she told him, refusing to step back from the danger signs. She wondered how long his temper would hold once he made it back to Asgard. “If I ever find a way to forgive you, of course I will send word. But you have a lot to make up for, and we mortals don’t live very long.”

Loki bit his lip, looking momentarily forlorn. Then he straightened his shoulders and lifted his head as if gathering his much-tattered pride. 

“That is all I can ask of you, then,” he answered with a sharp nod. “My life is twice in your hands, and I won’t forget my debt. 'I got red in my ledger; I'd like to wipe it out,' she said. I think I understand now.”

Loki suddenly bowed, low and respectful, his brother stepped to his side to take his arm, and then they both vanished in a flash of lightning, a rush of wind, and a seemingly endless rumble of thunder.

The black-suited secret agent who had been waiting calmly in the background stepped forward as the echoes faded. 

“Ms. Brandt,” he said, “if you and my nephew would please come with me, we have a few questions about the incident. Also, we are quite interested in your research. We will try to get you back to it as quickly as we can.”

Paul walked up to Klotho, and she slipped her arm through his and went with him, escorted by several agents, across the desert to a row of waiting vehicles.

***  
THREE MONTHS LATER

Klotho was pleased to find that she and Paul were the last two in the lab on this night. For weeks there had been crowds around every day, making personal conversation, even on unimportant topics, nearly impossible. And her days were so long that meals were taken in the employee cafeteria and evenings lasted long enough to take a shower and fling herself on her bed to sleep a few hours before getting up to do it again, no time left for a cup of coffee or even a phone call. So much data, so much new research, so little time. She was getting frustrated as there was one slightly important thing she needed to discuss with Paul without extra people around.

“Do you think Loki is actually going to stay in jail?” Paul asked as he tapped a graph on the screen in front of him. He had not said that name since their debrief in a van parked along the highway, far enough out to avoid interfering with the equipment in the motorhome. 

Klotho laughed and swiped across her own screen to throw her latest data onto the his. “Not one bit,” she answered. “It’s okay though. Maybe some of what happened will stick with him next time he starts feeling sorry for himself and decides to make his life more interesting.”

“Do you think you ever could actually forgive him?” he asked, not looking away from his screen; Klotho thought he was trying entirely too hard to sound casual.

“Already did,” she said, leaning over a tablet and frowning that her outcomes did not match expectations. 

“What? When?” Paul asked, turning to stare at her, eyebrows halfway to his hairline in shock. 

“About the time we found him,” Klotho answered as she tapped some numbers into the new computer in the bowels of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Central US research base. “Half-dead in the desert. I mean, really, who could stay mad. Couldn’t tell him that, of course.”

“And that’s how you got this job, then?” Paul said, trying to sound teasing but only managing to come across as awed. “By having the best poker face in the history of humankind.”

“Apparently, lying to the Lie-Smith is a valued skill around here. Almost as valuable as being someone’s favorite nephew,” she retorted.

“Huh.” Paul looked away and scrolled through more data, moving important pieces into his graph. “So, uh, you ever gonna send him that message? That you forgive him, I mean.”

“I think I’ll tell Thor eventually and let him pass it on in a few decades. After I’m dead, maybe. It's not as if forgiving him meant I suddenly forgot that he's a rather frightening crazy guy.”

“So you’re not looking to be ‘Mrs. Lafeyson’ any time soon then?” Paul teased. He finished adjusting the graph and threw it to her screen.

She gave him a look that spoke volumes, most of them tomes of death and destruction.

“That will appeal to me a few years past never,” she said dryly.

“So what are you planning next?” Paul asked. “Going to try to join the Avengers Initiative or something?”

“Actually, I’m trying to work out how to ask out one Science Specialist Paul Coulson, if you must know,” she said, trying to look very engrossed in her computer.

“Oh. Okay, then," Paul replied, equally fixated on his own screen. The tips of his ears were very pink, and Klotho took that as a yes.


End file.
